Desperate Measures
by SheegothBait
Summary: For over 20 years, turians and humanity remain locked in stalemate due to the Council's indecisiveness. But when two soldiers from opposing sides must rely on each other to survive, they make discoveries about each other that shake the crumbling loyalties of those who hear their story... AU, No Reapers.
1. Stranded

If hell was cold instead of hot, then this bloody planet had to be Dante's innermost circle of hell. Nine months out of thirteen this planet was a frozen ball of snow, ice, and misery, with temperatures dropping to subarctic levels at night. Even though Shepard wore full Arctic survival gear, she still was convinced she was getting frostbite. Her toes and fingers had gone numb from less than an hour of exposure. More than once she'd wished for the sleek sets of combat armor with built-in thermal coils that were simply too expensive to equip everyone with at this point.

Her only comfort was that the bloody turians weren't faring much better; the turians she'd killed all wore basic combat uniforms rather than armor as well. She guessed that at this point both militaries were more concerned about putting guns into soldiers' hands than worrying about their safety, which of course made the fact that the turians and Alliance were fighting over this ice cube ridiculous. The only thing that made this turian outpost even worth the effort was its proximity to Oya, a heavily colonized human planet close by. If the turians managed to secure this outpost, a lot of humans would die in the resulting orbital strikes. The Alliance held onto the outpost desperately just so the turians couldn't have it, hence the bloodshed over this glacial ball of frigid dirt.

She supposed the base would have been forgotten if it weren't for the batarian raiders. Their attacks made the Alliance take the base in the first place, for the safety of Oya, and this in turn had attracted turian attention back to the outpost. Without the fucking batarians, she would be stationed elsewhere, somewhere reasonably warm.

She tugged at her parka and approached the half-demolished base, trudging around it and searching for signs of a usable vehicle. The Alliance base, this one, was ruined, and the closest base with a working transmitter was too far to walk in this cold. The snow-worthy vehicle that the Alliance had given her small squad was fucked, and the rest of her squad was dead, killed when batarians hit them suddenly and hard. Sixty versus ten wasn't exactly fair, after all.

Blue splatters in the snow caught her attention and she clenched her pistol tighter as she spotted the dark shapes of bodies lying in the snow. The bodies were distinctly turian; the blue blood drenching the snow around them gave that away. But what caught her attention was the big white vehicle they'd apparently been guarding. It boasted heavy armor, fat tires with deep treads, and was totally alien. Still, she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. She hastily climbed inside and sent a silent thanks to whatever gods were listening. The ignition pass was still sitting on the driver's seat.

She inserted the key into the ignition and jacked up the heat before putting the vehicle in gear (the driver pulled _back_ on the throttle to go faster? The hell was wrong with the turians' brains?) and speeding out of the wrecked base as fast as possible. She leaned back in the oddly-shaped seat, relishing in the hot air cranking out from the vehicle's AC unit. As she approached the bridge, however, a line of snow leapt up several meters from her position. She cursed and threw the vehicle into reverse, retreating out of gun range. _Fuck!_ The batarians had gotten to the bridge first, and by the look of things, had set up machine gun nests to trap the weary soldier in and cut them to pieces.

She stared out furiously at the bridge. She _had_ to get across, but she couldn't. The vehicle had no weapons, and the pistol she'd managed to keep hold of wouldn't do anything against those machine gun nests. She needed a long-range weapon, and cursed herself for not picking up one of the turian-made sniper rifles she'd found half-buried in the snow. If only she had…

A puff of red originated from the closest nest, followed by an echoing _crack._ She almost jumped as someone fell against the side of the vehicle with a _thud_. The door opened, and she threw a quick glance backward, determining that this stranger who had scrambled inside wasn't a batarian.

"Go! _Go!"_ The stranger shouted at her. She slammed on the gas, opening the throttle as far as she dared. The vehicle's wheels squealed as they searched for purchase, and the truck shot forward. The stranger hung out the door, and several sharp gunshots echoed painfully loud in the space as the stranger shot at something. She glanced back at him again and felt a dull kind of ache. He was really the last survivor? The reinforcements hadn't been _that_ heavy, but she'd kind of expected more than just him to survive. The vehicle's door clanged shut, cutting off the low whistle of the wind.

"Any news from Quintus?"

She whipped around as his dual-toned voice rippled through the stale air and was regurgitated by her translator. She caught a glimpse of his bold cobalt facepaint, a heads-up display over one eye, and impossibly blue irises as he looked up. His eyes widened in an expression that probably(she wasn't well-versed in turian expressions) meant _oh fuck_ and probably would have matched her own had he been human.

She grabbed for the knife at her side, cursing herself for placing her pistol slightly out of reach. The turian's eyes narrowed and he lashed out at the same time, striking at her head. She lunged towards him, putting all her weight behind the handle of her knife. His fist glanced off her jaw, rattling her teeth.

The knife blade sunk home.

Her adversary jerked and instinctively threw himself away from her, his weight falling on the door, which swung open. He tumbled out of the vehicle, taking her knife with him. She returned her attention to the road and jerked the wheel as the side of the truck grazed a stunted conifer with a screech. She slightly regretted not being able to run the turian over, but she didn't have time for that now. She had to focus on getting to the LZ before the batarians…

Shit. What if the batarians were already there? What would she do if she encountered any more machine gun nests?

She slammed on the brakes and parked the vehicle in the middle of the road. Cursing the necessity of it, she snatched up her pistol and headed off through the snow, searching for the turian. She heard soft swearing and came upon him floundering in a snowbank, gripping her knife with one hand and holding his injured side with the other. He was covered in cobalt blood and muddy snow, probably from the wheels. He probably didn't have a pistol, or he would have pulled it on her. He tensed and bared his teeth as she approached, glaring up at her. _Shit, if looks could kill…_

"I've got a deal for you," she said tersely. He said nothing, so she continued. "I don't leave you to freeze to death, and you shoot the batarians and not me."

"Where are we going?" He asked stiffly.

She jerked her head, taking his use of _we_ and not _you_ in stride. "LZ two hours up the road."

The turian nodded tersely, tried to get up, snarled, and fell back into the snow, his breath hissing between his teeth. She knew that he needed help if he was going to be of any use to her, so she bent down reluctantly.

"Let me see that."

He growled a warning at her, but went still as Shepard peeled back his blood-soaked parka, baring his plated skin. He felt curiously warm under her fingers, his hide the texture of sandy leather rather than human skin. She'd half-expected him to be cold and hard, like armor. The knife had skidded off one of his plates and sunk in underneath another on his back, making a long, deep wound that bled freely. Probably hurt like a bitch too, but hopefully it would stop him from trying anything funny.

"Got a first aid kit?" She didn't want to use her supplies on him, especially if she had to kill him later.

"Pack," He grunted, glancing towards the dark lump close by in the snow. "Hurry up. It's fucking cold out here."

"Quit your bitching." She shot back, locating the first aid kit in his pack. She found the medi-gel inside, then held the gash closed and covered it in a thick layer of the gooey substance. His blood covered her hands, the smell of hot metal pervading the bitter air.

"I think you'll survive," she told him sarcastically, bandaging the wound. Her fingers began to tingle strangely, and she quickly wiped her hands off in the snow. She shoved the kit back into his bag and headed back towards the vehicle, not bothering to help him up. He huffed behind her, struggling to catch up while contending with his heavy pack and the knife-wound.

She climbed into the vehicle, and he followed her up the ladder. He dropped his gear to the floor as she settled into the driver's seat.

"Wait," he said suddenly as she rested her hand on the throttle.

"What?" She snapped.

"I can't leave without my team."

"Four of them?"

He eyed her suspiciously, fingers suddenly tight on the handle of her knife. "Yes…"

"They're dead. I didn't do it, just found the bodies," she added hurriedly, swallowing the inexplicable lump of guilt in her throat. It wasn't like _she_ had killed them. He let out a low noise, his mandibles hanging loose, and hung his head. She didn't need a translator to tell her that meant _grief_. Fuck, she never expected to feel _sorry_ for a turian.

"Look, my squad's dead too. Let's just focus on getting the hell out of here, okay?"

He gave a short nod, squared his shoulders as he settled into the passenger seat, and began scanning the road for batarians.

"This planet is a shithole," he grumbled.

"Tell me about it," she agreed, flooring the gas.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

 **Hi, folks!**

 **First and foremost, huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed Invictus. Don't worry, I haven't given up on Invictus, just having some trouble working through some scenes.**

 **Anyway, I thought this would be a little something to sate those wanting a new chapter of Invictus while I work out the kinks. I hope you like it, and if you do or have constructive criticism, please let me know.**

 **I am currently writing on another much darker story as well as Invictus and Desperate Measures. Juggling them is a bit of a pain, but this way I figure I can have something more often for you guys. The third story should be up in a couple weeks (but is not for the faint of heart).**

 **If you would like to read the prompt for the third fanfiction, the specific document is Goliat Krubbus' Application by Krubbus on deviantart. If you have trouble finding it through conventional search means, it is under my (Kuwashiifangirl) favorites. More details on the author's note I will be posting at the beginning of the story.**

 **Stay beautiful!**

 **SB**


	2. Cold

_Crack. Crack. Crack._ Three bullets, three batarians sporting large perforations in their vital organs. She had to admit the turian was exceptionally skilled with that rifle of his. He hadn't said a word during the entire two-hour drive, but hopefully the plethora of targets along the road helped calm him down a little. She didn't exactly want to spend the night with a pissy enemy, just on the grounds that she was _really_ hoping to get some sleep. God only knew when she'd gotten proper sleep last.

She hit the brakes as the road came to an end. The LZ was just a snow-covered field. She looked for the hangar and spotted its burned-out shell. Her heart sunk. _Fuck._ Looks like they came all this way for _nothing._ They… _no, I'm_ …going to freeze to death out here. Her companion tapped her on the shoulder and gestured towards the treeline.

"Over there."

"Why the hell would I want to go over there?" She snapped, resisting the urge to swipe at him.

"Underground hangar."

She gave him an angry look.

"You never found it? Seriously?" He let out an exasperated snort, and she had the feeling, if he'd been in a better mood, he would have given her hell for her ignorance. "There's a hangar down there with communications and food and…"

" _Fine,_ fine. We'll go over there. But if there's nothing over there, it's your fucking fault when we freeze to death."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

The trek over was long, hard, and very cold. Snow had piled up to her waist in some areas, forcing her to rely on the turian's help if she stumbled into these snowy sinkholes. By the time they found the hangar, they were both drenched and exhausted, but their work was far from done.

The interior of the hangar was as dark as a cave and just as cold as outside, but without the wind. She highly doubted there was any running water; with the generators turned off to keep the base hidden, the hangar apparently hadn't had so much as power since before the war started. The turian immediately located a toolkit and got to work. He was currently tinkering with a control panel, his booted feet sticking out.

"Turians sure build things homey," she commented, glancing around the pitch-dark, concrete-and-steel structure.

"Shut up and go make a fire. The wood's over there." He stuck a hand out, pointing, then got back to work.

"Don't you people have stoves?"

"Well, we can use the power for food or we can use it for heat. The other two generators are broken and I can't fix them tonight. Personally, I'd rather be hungry than dead." He snapped.

She scowled at his feet and considered telling him to go fuck himself, but she didn't think antagonizing him further would be the best of ideas. They were both cold, hungry, tired, and grieving, and the last thing she wanted to do was fall asleep next to a pissed-off enemy combatant whom she'd already stabbed. She gathered the wood from the indicated corner and built a small fire in the middle of the hangar. He joined her and sat down on the other side of the fire.

"The heater's working again, but it's going to take a while to warm up the entire hangar." He commented.

"Fantastic. So if we don't die of hypothermia now, we'll be warm tomorrow."

He stared blankly into the flames, not responding. He had the look of someone who had not slept for a week, and she figured he must be utterly wiped out. She fell into silence as well, a silence which didn't break until the last morsels of the MREs had vanished down their respective throats. She took a swig of water from her canteen and cleared her throat, aware that the truce that they'd had earlier no longer applied.

"What happens now?"

He started and looked up at her. "Well, we could try to kill each other now, but we're currently in danger of being discovered by batarians and/or freezing to death. Or we could wait until tomorrow and I can switch the power over to the communications array. Then you could comm your people, and I could comm mine, and we would wait to see who shows up first."

"If my people show up first, you're my prisoner and…vice versa?"

"What?" He gave her a look that might have been confusion.

"The other way around?" She clarified. _Goddamned translation barriers…_

"Yeah, pretty much."

 _I can always kill him later,_ she reasoned. Besides, the turian was a lot better at repairs than her, and if the batarians found them, she'd need all help she could get to fend them off.

"Deal."

"We should get some sleep." He stood up and moved off.

 _Using '_ we' _again,_ she thought. _We're not partners._ To hell with it. His overreaching trust would make him easier to catch unawares when the time came. She shifted, grimacing. Her wet clothes were clammy and stuck to her skin; she'd long since shed her soaked parka, but her uniform wasn't much drier.

The turian, however, didn't seem bothered by this. He returned with a foam mat and a rolled sleeping bag, laying both out by the fire. He made a few adjustments, then turned to her.

"Strip."

 _What?_ She gaped at him, shocked. The fuck kind of request was that? Did he get off on watching humans run around naked? "No way."

"That bag is dry, and I'm going to keep it that way. I'm not letting you into my bag when you're soaking wet. If you want to sleep in wet clothes, fine. Just don't come crying to me when you get hypothermia."

Shepard closed her mouth. Any moisture in the bag would be very difficult to get out again, and it was imperative that they both get warm and dry ASAP. "You're letting me sleep in your bag."

"Two are warmer than one," he said, shrugging off his shirt. "I personally don't feel like freezing to death." He stripped off his pants, then his briefs with no hesitation right in front of her, baring his body to her gaze. She hastily looked away and divested herself of her own pants and shirt as he climbed into the bag, drawing the line at her underwear. She walked over and caught the edge of the bag, but the turian yanked it from her grasp.

" _All_ of it. Off." He growled.

"No! Let me in!" She snapped, furiously rubbing her arms in an attempt to stay warm.

He let out an oath, scrambled out of the bag, and stood up, towering over her. She held her ground, but her heart pounded against her ribcage. Snarling something about prudes, he vanished into the dark, returning moments later with a rough blanket.

"Here," he snapped, shoving it into her arms. "Satisfied?" Without waiting for an answer, he climbed back into the bag, turning away from her. Fuming, she pulled off her underwear and wrapped the blanket around herself, then climbed in after him and zipped the bag shut. She had to stifle a gasp.

Holy god, was he warm.

His body radiated heat like a miniature sun. She pressed close to him, heedless of the hard plates that dug into her sore body. He grunted and pulled away.

"Spirits, you're _frigid._ " He complained.

 _Bastard,_ she thought. Then again, he _had_ been unnecessarily kind to her. He hadn't needed to go get that blanket for her, hadn't needed to let her into his sleeping bag at all. He could have just let her die of hypothermia, because she sure as hell didn't have the body heat right now to ward it off by herself. She supposed she owed him at least some appreciation.

"Thanks for the blanket," she offered grudgingly.

"Welcome. Now shut up. I'm trying to sleep."

She rolled over, turning her back to his, closed her eyes, and tried to find some semblance of rest.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

 **A/N: Hope you guys liked it. I tried to mimic the banter between Shepard and Garrus on the Normandy; funny, but with a sarcastic twist, given the situation.**

 **Hopefully more coming soon, and as always, I appreciate any and all attention this gets.**


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